


The Rescue of the Canary

by 4cidmushroom



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, billy butcher is a fucking clown for hughie, but might get pretty naughty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27820585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4cidmushroom/pseuds/4cidmushroom
Summary: Ever since Hughie Campbell left his company, all Billy Butcher can do is get blind drunk until he's shamefully found on the streets. But in that particular afternoon, what was supposed to be just another visit to the local pub ended up turning into a rescue.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell
Comments: 24
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [O Resgate do Canário](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/720088) by 4cidmushroom. 



> hey everyone!! it's been a while since the last time I wrote something, but I got so obsessed with this show, I just couldn't help it. have fun!

Billy Butcher couldn't tell when that shit started. He couldn’t say whether it had come from Hughie or himself, but his rationality, once so uplifted and preserved, now seemed to be fine sand running through his fingers. It had gotten worse, of course. It had gotten a lot fucking worse.

Since Hughie had left his company, Butcher was one step closer to imploding. As much as his routine was limited to living with Becca and the damn Ryan - who, by the way, wasn’t his son - also his instincts had been limited to craving for his bloody canary. Hughie was a fucking magnet and Butcher was his yearning, negative half. And now that Billy no longer had the magnet near himself, his mood was like a bull’s. He was one step away from breaking something with his head, or if he was lucky enough, the head itself.

“Billy.”

It took him a while to notice the woman standing in front of his body. Billy was sitting on the couch in front of an off-air television, the cigarette lit in his hands, his thoughts lost in that canary. Which, by the way, had never been a canary. And had never been his own.

"Becca," he growled in response, waking up from daydreams. Her face wasn’t happy at all. Billy looked for something that could serve as an ashtray, but there wasn’t.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "I've been calling you for hours."

Yeah, maybe she had been calling him for a while. Ryan was standing at the exit door and was also giving him a disappointed look.

"Sorry," he growled, a yellow smile on his face. “I was just... thinking. Who thought I could do that, eh?”

"Billy..."

She gave him the look. That look. The one who claimed to know when Billy was lying just to divert her focus from something else. Butcher just scratched his head and squeezed the cigarette in his hands, as she spoke:

“I'll ask you again, please don't smoke in here. I'm going out with Ryan, taking him to school. Do you think you can stay here alone?”

What the fuck was that question supposed to mean? Billy narrowed his eyes, uncomfortable. Was she implying that he couldn't manage to stay alone in the state he was? Or was it a _request_ for him to stay home alone, out of trouble?

“Of course,” he grinned, but something inside him pointed out to the certaintity she was concerned for a good reason. “Good luck, kid.”

Ryan didn’t answer. Actually, he looked more frightened than pleased with their interaction. Just gave his mother a desperate look as she turned to smile at Butcher again. Gently, she rubbed Billy’s face, but his beard was so thick he could barely feel the woman’s touch.

“See you later, Billy. Please take care.”

They left. Left him with nothing but the lit cigarette and the off-air television. In a matter of seconds, his heart’s pace turned so wild, he suddenly remembered the main reason for Becca’s concern.

He’s been having those rage attacks. Bursts of anger, completely out of control. He’d been wishing to live with Becca as a family for so long, that now that he had it - and had realized the situation was nothing like he’d pictured - his anger turned against himself. When he was alone for too long, he went out and drank until he was found on the streets by a concerned neighbour who’d bring him home. Fucking pathetic.

Sometimes, during those attacks, Billy would break objects inside the house; then, he’d force himself to clean it up before Becca could see the mess. But she always sensed it somehow. Nothing went unnoticed by her perceiving eyes.

Billy Butcher was a selfish motherfucker who hid all his desires in his fucked-up, broken heart as if they were diseases. Now, the desire to see Hughie made that heart beat so fast once more, that tears of anger - of himself - went back to the corner of his eyes.

Why the fuck couldn’t he be happy, if now he had achieved all he ever wanted? Breaking stuff in the house wasn’t fulfilling any of his empty spaces anymore; it wasn’t as effective as breaking himself. That’s why he was already standing up and marching to the door, convinced the only thing that could bring him any comfort was the good old whiskey. He headed for the pub as a boy running for his mother’s lap.

The streets were crowded. Even more crowded than they used to be when superheroes ruled that region. The fall of the supers had made criminality increase a little bit, but nothing to actually worry about. That country had always been shit anyway.

It didn’t take long for Billy to arrive at his favourite local destination, the Mighty Session. It was so dark inside it was even hard to believe it was daytime. A depressing punk rock band played on stage, with little audience. Among the customers, other very bad-looking big guys who looked him up and down, but Billy didn’t care. He was craving so much for a good fight, that if someone punched him in the face, they’d been doing him a fucking favor. He had been kicked out that place so many times, only God knew how we was still allowed to get in.

Anyway, the other customers didn’t look any better than himself. But in that particular afternoon, there seemed to be someone else among the big guys that just... didn’t fit. Someone who stood out of the depressing pattern.

Sitting on a big bench and leaning over the bar, a skinny boy seemed to be sleeping. But it couldn’t be, right? Of course not. As his eyes were now fixed on the sleeping young man, Billy frowned, trying to contain his desparate heartbeat. He knew it couldn’t be, but still... fuck. He approached the young man, giving him a good look.

The messy hair, the crumpled sweatshirt, the emotional aura of a creature that seemed to be lost from the moment of birth, there he was. Hughie Fucking Campbell Jr. God forbid it, but now Billy's heart was racing faster than the first time he'd seen Becca in her Christmas lingerie.

“Hey, lad.”

No response. Either the young man was in an alcoholic coma, or dead.

“Hughie!” Billy insisted, pushing him in an attempt to wake him up. He got it.

Hughie turned slightly to the side, just enough to see him. His lids looked heavy and his eyes were red and puffy, just as if he had cried.

“Hey... Billy...” Hughie smiled weakly as he tried to respond the greeting. But his hoarse voice was the proof he’d been drinking a fucking lot. Billy had never seen him like that before, looking so miserable. Even when he got himself in trouble. Now, Hughie didn’t even seem to be able to get up from that counter.

“The fuck happened to you?” Butcher asked, sending him a suspicious look. Although his voice seemed pretty neutral, there was this growing pain in his chest, as if it had been stabbed.

Hughie shook his head.

“Starlight... Annie...” he murmured.

“What about Starlight?”

At that point, Hughie was already crying again. He cringed on the counter, his back shaking in spasms of sobs. But someone didn’t have enough patience to wait until the end of his breakdown.

“Hughie!”

“Starlight is dead!”

The sound of the band playing, for a while, seemed muted. Billy’s legs weakened, but he remained standing. As for his expression... well. He could no longer keep it neutral. Desperate eyes searched Hughie's face for another answer, but all the young man could do in response was cry. In Butcher's mind, messy thoughts that didn’t make any sense; none of them able to cancel out the fact it was the second girlfriend Hughie had lost in less than two years. That lad was cursed after all, wasn’t he?

Part of Butcher didn’t give a shit about what happened to Starlight, but still... still, he knew how much she was worth to Hughie. And how much, probably, the lad had already returned to suicidal thoughts after that tragedy. Post-traumatic disorder had a greater reason to worsen every day. And now, Hughie sniffed and sobbed over the filthy table of that despicable pub.

“Hughie... I...”

Couldn’t elaborate what to say. Even if he could, Hughie probably wouldn’t listen. So what Billy did was use what was left of his reasoning to come up with a single functioning idea.

“I'll get you out of here.”

That's what he did. Whatever his mind couldn’t solve, physical strength could. Billy Butcher lifted the young man off the bench, rested Hughie’s arm behind his neck and headed for the exit, practically taking the whole weight on his back. Hughie did not protest; didn't even have a reaction. He looked like a dead weight Billy was carrying, and although the man's arms were really strong, his chest felt more sore by the second.

Billy had failed to protect Lenny, but he would protect Hughie until the end of his days. He wouldn’t allow him to have the same end as his brother's, he wouldn’t let sadness consume his canary. He’d do anything to get him out of darkness, just as he now dragged him out of the pub.

The only detail he’d have to take into account was that his intentions with Hughie were infinitely different from those he’d had with Lenny.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh lord, I can’t even find the right words to thank you guys  
> thanks a lot for all the support you’ve been giving!  
> hope you enjoy this one, please let me know of your thoughts!

Billy Butcher's sight at that moment didn't make him feel any better. Hughie Campbell was sobbing in his bathroom, hugging the toilet, because as much as he couldn't control the tears that flowed from his eyes, also couldn't control the amount of alcohol that had already left his stomach. He was a fucking mess. Sniffing and shaking his head, he seemed unable to say anything, but was still observed by the other man, whose back was lain against the wall.

Communication wasn’t happening at all. Hughie was still drunk, and the very sight of those red eyes was breaking Billy's fucking heart. It was the first time Butcher cared more about the person lying on his toilet than with the toilet itself. He wasn’t used at all to dealing with emotions, and his body was truly petrified. Didn’t have a fucking clue on how to comfort a grieving person. Didn’t even know how to deal with the crying shit. The feeling of compassion was mixed with anger at himself, for being so useless.

“You’re gonna tell me what happened, or what?” he snarled.

Hughie shot him a sad glance. He nodded, but the sobs barely allowed him to speak. He tore off a wad of toilet paper and wiped the tears from his face, but looked the other way, muttering:

“Don’t stare at me. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Hughie.”

"Starlight was..." He clutched the paper in his hands, eyes lost on the bathroom floor. “Saving some people from a fire. The structure of the building... fell on her.”

"Sounds like a stupid way for a supe to die," Billy mumbled, unconvinced. The lad was probably keeping something from him.

“What do you want me to say?” Campbell replied, his expression turning hurt. “She was a human being! Was trying to save people!” and then, he lowered his tone to complete: “Why are you helping me? You didn’t even like her.”

Billy considered denying it, but he didn't have time. The expression on his face spoke for itself; it was true. He hated Starlight to his very last cell. So all he could do was shrug and look away.

“Won’t let you rot in a fucking pub.”

“How caring you are,” Hughie replied, the sad tone back to his voice. He wiped the rest of the tears from his eyes. “I don't need... I don't need your help.”

Billy watched from the corner of his eye as the lad tried to stand. He failed. His legs went weak and Hughie almost fell on the floor once more. He only didn’t because a second hand held him in time. Butcher's fists closed over his waist, and for a few seconds, they supported Hughie's weight again. Those hands, once firm as rocks, for some reason were sweating so much, it was even hard to hold the boy still.

There was this smell coming out of his hair. A smell that made Billy's muscles stiffen and the throbbing in his chest get even worse. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Let me... go.”

“Hughie.”

“I'm not Lenny. I am not your dead brother. I don't need... to be saved.” He murmured, his voice choked again by the weeping.

Those words made Billy feel uncomfortable. He had just remembered that his own mother had told Hughie about Lenny. So he knew. But even so, the very idea of seeing that lad comparing himself to Lenny was... repulsive. Billy didn't like Hughie the way he liked Lenny. Perhaps the affection was the same, but the intentions... well. It was the first time he actually realized his intentions were way different. He just hoped not to find out how different they truly were.

“It’s not about him,” Billy mumbled. “It’s not about Lenny. You’re my...” such a fucking hard sentence to complete. “Canary.”

“That stupid canary thing...”

It wasn't working. Butcher was failing to convince him to stay. Even though Hughie could barely walk, he was breaking free from those fists. He leaned against the walls and walked to the exit, the sobs still escaping his lips, but in his mind the certainty that he couldn’t stay any longer. He even made it to the exit door, but something stopped him.

“Hughie.”

Butcher had to say it, had to let out what was stuck in his chest since earlier that afternoon, when he had seen him in the pub. Had to admit that the reason for wanting to be close to Hughie wasn’t just that he cared about the boy’s well-being.

He also missed him. Missed the fuck out of him. The hole Hughie had left in his chest was so big that Billy had been trying to fill it with alcohol. But it didn't work. And even now, when he saw that lad so close to the exit, even though his body remained still as a stone, his fucking heart was yearning for an approach. Billy could feel it in his throat.

“I need you to...,” but couldn’t complete the damn thing. “I need...”

Billy Butcher had the communication skills of a fucking paper clip. He couldn’t talk about his own feelings, although his hands were already sweating for the need of self-expression. He cleared his throat and turned his eyes away in distress. Letting Hughie step out of that door wasn’t an option, but talking about his own feelings wasn’t either. He was at a dead end.

“What’s... wrong with you?” Hughie asked, frowning. Perceptive as he were, the lad already had realized something wasn’t right with Billy, although Butcher wouldn’t admit it himself. “Hey... are you okay?”

The man clearly wasn’t. Butcher could only give him a sideways look as response.

Hughie kept on observing his face closely and took a few steps to get closer. He seemed to analyze every contracted muscle, as if he _sensed_ there was something Billy obviously couldn’t - or didn’t want to - share.

“Billy...”

“Just don’t walk out that fucking door.”

Despite the harsh tone, the phrase didn’t sound like an order, but like a plea. Slowly, Hughie nodded.

"You look different too," he murmured.

Fuck, how couldn’t he be? Billy had achieved the dream of his life, of having a family with Becca; and yet, it didn’t bring him happiness. He was so damn distant from actually feeling happy, that it didn’t even felt he had ever dreamed about anything. And now that he finally had Hughie in front of him, his body felt more alive than it had felt in the past 6 six months, all combined. In that lad’s presence, at least he felt something. Even if some of those feelings were pretty sordid according to his good judgment.

"Okay," Hughie murmured thoughtfully. “But are you sure I can stay here? It's your home... and your family...”

“We’ll sort something out.”

A weak smile formed on the lad’s lips. He nodded, and although the original idea was that Billy would help him somehow, it felt like the other way around; just as if Hughie was the one rescuing him. At that point, both of them could hear the noise of a car approching, a clear evidence that Becca had taken Ryan to school and was already back.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but it’s gonna be fine” Hughie promised.

_Fine_ was such a strong word for those circumstances. That encouter had been so intense so far, that if Billy Butcher could make it through the day without having a nervous breakdown, it would already be such a great, fucking victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [find me on tumblr](https://starrymushroom.tumblr.com/) (and reach out!)


End file.
